Suck On This
by TinyCitrusLegs
Summary: Dave's a vampire. Karkat is a hemophiliac. Dave would insist that this isn't some shitty vampire au fanfic. No matter how often his heart putters at the sight of that ordinary human, no matter how much he wants to just smell and taste him, no matter how much he fucking swoons... it's not a vampire au. Nope.


It started off with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss.

Great job at finding a sappy song lyric that semi (but not really) relates to this story, Dave. Wow, thanks Dave, you know I did think it was rather genius, we could be a fucking world class, drabble fanfic writer. Fuck yeah, Dave, let's keep it up.

Okay no, for real, it wasn't really a- kiss. More like a bite. A very hard bite. On the neck. And draining blood. But 'bite' doesn't rhyme with 'this' so I had to deal with it, so you should deal with it too.

Fuck it. Let's get down to the nitty gritty already.

I'm a vampire, plain and simple. Y'know? Like good ol' Dracula, that Nosferatu, shiny skin and all. Except, we're not really like that at all. We're not pansies, swooned over by emo chicks and sparkling at that slight bit of sunlight, but we're not monsters either (at least most of us aren't). We're just trying to survive in a world that praises our existence yet despise the truth of it.

Your average vamp will feed up to once a week, usually from a single victim, and only taking about as much blood as you'd donate to a blood drive. Sure, the people we choose can end up dizzy and weak, maybe even a little faint for a while, but other than that they're perfectly fine!

So relax, okay? I'm chill. You're chill. We're all perfectly chill. Everything is so ice cold that Frosty the fucking Snowman could vacation right here in our laps and would complain that the weather is a bit too chilly for his liking.

Yup, we're chill.

Alright. I'm not chill, I'm the exact fucking opposite of chill. I am the pinnacle of tense, heated, and compressed pile of anxiety, trademark. I've just about turned into a fucking diamond with all of this heated pressure on my rocky existence.

On the outside, this seems like a regular Thursday night. It's crawling towards midnight, with me sitting at my kick ass desk and just about to bust out them sick beats for my next video- except not quite.

No, I'm staring at my bed, sweat dripping down the nape of my neck, intensely watching as a young man squirms just slightly under the covers. The guy has been out for four hours and only now has started stirring. Thank fucking God.

Like I said, it started off with a… well, a bite.

Early Thursday evening, and I was on the patrol for my next meal. The downtown area has smaller shops that close early, and it's just the right time to pick someone off for a nibble. So here I was, chillaxing on a bench, when a good, fucking delicious ass smell had infiltrated my nostrils. I remember licking my lips at that exact moment, my fangs elongating as I locked on to my prey.

And when I opened my eyes, I saw him. He had been across the street, tapping on his phone as he locks the door of a small coffee shop.

Perfect.

So I followed him, of course, the usual, until he's passing a mysterious alleyway, and that was when I had pulled him in. He gave a struggle, the usual, but grew still when I sank my fangs into his throat. Although he twitched, I held him in place as I fed off of his blood. The event was over within seconds, and I allowed him freedom to collapse against a wall to gather his bearings. He had collapsed then, flat against the ground, and it quickly got worse from there.

Yeah, okay, you'd expect some bleeding from a puncture wound like that, but the amount of blood he was spewing was ridiculous. He was dripping like a faucet, a pool of dark red puddling beneath him that grew larger and larger up until it soaked into my vans. Something was so wrong.

I had collapsed beside him then, pressing my palms against his throat to stop the bleeding. It did nothing. It wouldn't clot- just wouldn't- fucking… clot!

My sweatshirt (may it rest in peace) made the ultimate sacrifice of both soaking up the blood and being a weak, makeshift tourniquet. Of course, it had just kept bleeding. Just my luck to nibble on the one hemophiliac. If I had known better, I would've just left the guy at the nearest hospital, booked it, and left it at that, but no. Instead, here I am, twiddling my thumbs and waiting to see if the dude wakes up. Shit, I'm such a good guy, all taking care of the poor kid I just about murdered.

He stirs again, but this time he's waking up, giving little grunts as his bones creak and slowly sitting up. If this were a fulfilling vampire AU fanfiction, he would've stared at me like a lost affection, assuming maybe we fucked in a drunken stupor. We'd stay in contact as friend/fuck buddies until he learned what I am. Then there'd be a whole chapter of lost love and self-hatred before realizing how much in love we are with each other and get back together, then boom, happy ending. Roll credits.

Hell, there's a part of me that wishes this was a sappy fanfic, and I think to myself that it may be fucking possible as he slowly opens his eyes. He looks around the room in bewilderment first before locking eyes with me. For a split second, it looks like that expression of lost affection. And then he screams.

"Holy fucking shit mongers! You- It- I!" The words tumble out like a sprung leak as he scrambles back towards the wall, splaying himself as though he could fuse into it. "It… It wasn't a dream. You- you're a- a fucking vampire-" it isn't accusatory, more so a plea of disbelief.

"Congratulations, so you want a medal?" I stand then, and the fucking kid jumps to his feet like he's ready to deck me. "Hey- dude- chill the fuck out, I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Say that as much as you want, I won't trust you anymore- why the fuck am I here? Is this your house? You live in a fucking house?"

"Yeah, a house, we don't live in cemeteries and shit. And yeah, it's mine. Rent and all, pretty chill landlord too if you're interested. As for your last question, it's because I didn't want you to bleed out on the street. I'm a gentleman like that."

The kid scoffs, giving a daring look. "Gentleman? You're a monster."

"Ouch, that hurts dude."

He shakes his head, seemingly a bit more at ease. "Be real with me… why did you bring me here? What was the fucking purpose?"

And I laugh. Of course I laugh. My sis says it's a defense mechanism so my true emotions are harder to detect. She's right too, cause right now, I'm nervous beyond all shit and I have no idea how to answer his fucking question.

So, like a suave vampire such as myself, I respond, "My dude, us vampires are a mystery. I can't just tell you my secrets. I'm like a magician, all Houdini up in this bitch, and I can't just let you in on my sick tricks."

Like the tsundere this guy is, he scoffs and rolls his eyes, trying to coerce his legs into getting him to stand. "I don't know what is wrong with you, but I'm leaving. Now. Unless you have any objections…"

And it's then that this kid takes an awkward fighting stance, glaring at me like I was denying him a sugary treat. I shrug, the minute fucklings I had prior already gone off to a better home to be raised into strong fucks. "Sure- I don't give a shit."

"Hah!" He jumps forward, admittedly making me flinch in surprise. "Prepare yourself, hellspawn, for you've kidnapped the wrong- wr- wait, what? You're fine with me leaving?" When I nod again, he scoffs. "What about all the people I'm gonna tell? You really trust me to keep your entire species a secret? Are you dumb?"

I feign hurt at his comment, wiping away a non-existent tear. "Bro- that- that really hurts…" And I sniffle. "Awe, but, I think I've gotten to know you rather well recently, so I'll be honest with ya. I don't think you're going to tell anyone. Not a single soul. And, even if you did, who would believe you?"

He's fuming, obviously debunked, and muttering obscenities as he shifts about for his belongings. I watch him move about with a smirk, trying to annoy him just a little bit more before he leaves. I want to leave an impression on him after all (although that bite mark might have done better than my personality ever would).

"Oh, by the way, what's your name?" I call to him as he's opening the front door.

"Fuck you!"

"Alright- see you later, Fuck You!"

When the door is slammed shut, a breath escapes me that I hadn't known I was holding. There had been another reason I was so nervous, on edge, very unchill, whatever that shit feeling is, and that was because of the bloody sweatshirt laying in the bathroom, staining every bit of clean surface.

That's not the embarrassing part though. Nope. The embarrassing part is how I can't stop myself from kneading the fabric, nuzzling into it like a dog and inhaling the scent of that blood as deep as I can. But it's good.

So. Fucking. Good.

I keep smelling it, the scent is so aromatic, intoxicating, one couldn't even describe the scent by anything other than just… Mr. Fuck You.

Before the thought comes to me, I'm hard and flustered, warmth bloomed in my gut and body twitching as I rut against the bloody fabric- and then I'm orgasming, all explosive and-

And the shame settles in. The shame of going full primal instinct. The shame of bowing to a human's scent.

And then settles in the confusion.


End file.
